


Navigate Me

by rockthecliche



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockthecliche/pseuds/rockthecliche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Behind every person, there's a silent guide, no matter what time it is, no matter what happens, and no matter if you think you don't need them at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Navigate Me

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I was playing with character dynamics, and these two in particular hit me hard, especially during the Jin/"BANDAGE" split.

"Do you want to talk?"

No. No, he most certainly does _not_ want to talk, he doesn't want pity or empathy or never-ending optimism, he just wants to quit and leave and fuck everyone and their 'he's-leaving-again''s. Fuck Johnny's, fuck his role as an idol, fuck constantly fighting with Kamenashi, fuck doing things he didn't want to do. He's sick and tired of Japan, the way fifteen year old girls scream and faint at the mere mention of his name. He didn't sign up for this when he auditioned. He didn't want any of this anymore.

"Jin?"

Everyone left already at least half an hour ago, everyone but Taguchi, the guy next door, the guy who always tries too hard, the guy he spent most of his Johnny's career with, the guy he should look out for, be a good, proper sempai for but never actually could and never actually cared. "Fuck off, Taguchi," Jin grits out, starting to shove his things angrily into his bag.

He doesn't hear anything after that and he assumes Taguchi probably left, but when he slings his bag over his shoulder and turns to leave, Taguchi is standing right by the doorway, looking at him with the patience of saints.

"Are you ready to go?" Taguchi asks.

"I'm not in the mood to deal with you," Jin replies.

"Okay," is all Taguchi says, opening the door.

 

"Why do they always think that I'm _leaving_?" Jin laments over his fourth or fifth or seventeenth drink; he doesn't quite remember how many he's had, only that they keep coming and whoever it is that makes sure they're coming could count as the love of his life in this moment in time.

"Hmm," Taguchi hums, not saying much else and finishing his drink; Jin wonders idly if he's had the same amount of drinks that Jin's had, but he can barely remember where he lives right now, let alone trying to keep track of drinks his bandmate has consumed. Taguchi doesn't _look_ drunk, though, or maybe Taguchi has his own personal brand of drunk that doesn't involve messed up hair and rumpled shirts. Maybe it _was_ possible to be drunk and completely put together (though Jin has no idea what the fun in that is).

"Why can't it be considered as just another solo concert?" Jin continues his lamentation, slouching over and on top of the bar. He feels the ground rattle a little bit rather than hear the scraping of a chair against the linoleum tile; there's an arm on his shoulder, light, gentle, warm to the touch. Jin looks up, puzzled, and isn't aware of who it is until the three Taguchis merge into one.

"Come on, I'll take you home," Taguchi says as he hoists Jin out of his chair; Jin is momentarily surprised at the show of strength since he's positive he's all but dead weight at this point, but then briefly remembers that underneath the cheery exterior, Taguchi is _muscle_ , sinewy and flexible and tightly compressed in lanky arms and limbs. Jin wonders at that, wonders how the tiny boy with the awkward big nose he grew up alongside with managed to turn into a skinny, six-feet tall Adonis with a penchant for puns.

They leave the bar and the breezy, Tokyo night air is heaven to Jin's flushed skin; Taguchi holds him up as best as he can while trying to flag down a taxi. Jin stumbles, manages to catch himself, then turns and leans his forehead against Taguchi's shoulder to stop his world from spinning out of control, fingers hooking through the belt-loops on Taguchi's jeans, keeping himself steady.

"Things are going to change again, aren't they?" Jin asks as a taxi finally pulls up in front of them; he doesn't expect a response, he's actually not quite sure if he wants one, or if he's just looking for some silent reassurance from Taguchi, like he's the representative for the rest of the group, like what he says is what goes.

"I don't know," Taguchi whispers, gently pushing Jin away so he can maneuver him into the taxi; Jin tries to cling onto him as best as he can, afraid that even the slightest distance between them would shatter what he so painstakingly glued back together, three years ago.

 

"Um," Jin says in the morning. It's all he can say because he's trapped in a tangle of Taguchi's legs, he can't get out, and besides the usual questions of _holy shit did we? didn't we?_ , Jin really, _really_ needs to get to the bathroom. "Taguchi. Hey, _Taguchi_."

"Mmmph," is his reply, the other's face buried into the pillow, no sign of movement apparent at all. Jin reaches out and shakes Taguchi's shoulder until he tilts his head to the side, eyes blearily peering at Jin. "Hmmm?"

"Move, I gotta piss," Jin says bluntly, and the leg thrown across his own and the arm wrapped snug around his waist are removed. Taguchi rolls over as Jin scurries off into the bathroom. He relieves himself then stares at his reflection in the mirror as the water from the faucet flows over his hands; he looks like shit, heavy bags underneath his eyes, skin a sickly yellow, telltale of an awful hangover. He splashes water on his face, dries his hands, pops a few ibuprofen, then pads back to his bed, where Taguchi hasn't moved.

He ponders for a moment why things are like this, why Taguchi is in his bed, why he went out when he had fully intended on staying home and wallowing in his own self-pity. Actually, Jin thinks, his night wasn't that off course; the only difference is that he wallowed in his self pity at a bar, not at home.

The sound of bedsheets rustling makes him snap out of it and he takes a look at his bed to find Taguchi with his head lifted up, hair sticking every which way, puzzled look on his face. "Come back to bed," he says, voice thick with sleep.

"I," Jin pauses. "...you don't think this is awkward?"

"It's not like we slept together," Taguchi says, letting his face drop back into the pillow. "Don't be such a girl about sharing a bed."

He can't really argue with that logic, Jin thinks, and so he slips back into bed, the mattress welcoming his body, the safety of the covers already beginning to lull him back to sleep. Taguchi sneaks an arm around his waist again and Jin willingly rolls into the warmth; this should be weird, this should be strange, but Jin can't help but feel comforted by it. He tucks his head underneath Taguchi's chin.

He's almost fallen back asleep when Taguchi's voice washes over him, making him open his eyes slightly to watch the other man. "We'll always have right now, you know."

Jin chuckles, and it's like music to his own ears; he feels light, less troubled, but not necessarily trouble-free. For the time being, though, he curls his fingers into the fabric of Taguchi's shirt resting on his waist and shuts his eyes again. "Don't tell anyone about this. It was just a moment of drunken weakness."

"Okay," is all Taguchi says, and it makes Jin feel like everything will be just fine.


End file.
